Friday, January 19, 2007

There was this girl at the gym the other day. A fine, fine girl dressed in tight red workout togs and sporting some lovely ink on her shoulders. Now normally I try to make it a point to not ogle at random women when I work out, but this girl.. oh this girl was something else. A tight wife-beater style tee revealed shoulders covered in ink, short boyish hair and glasses completed the look. Oh and did I mention that she was doing this yoga/ caporeia thing in front of me? Yeah, with the bending and twisting and generally displaying the amazing form that was her backside.


Little aside here folks, what makes rope tops drool? I’d argue that flexibility and endurance rank at the top of the list. I’m surprised more guys are hanging around outside yoga studios going, “psst, hemp rope… I got ya hemp rope right here.”

Now I didn’t stare, truth be told I made a point to not stare, rather to let her finish her workout in peace. Sure, I enjoyed the occasional sideways glance, but lord knows I was not about to go over and strike up a conversation with her. Why? Simple, I hate those guys who do that thing.

You know who I’m talking about, the testosterone cowboys who seem to inhabit every gym. Not the serious athletes, but rather the large, sweaty grunting men who spend way too much time together and in order to prove to everyone that they are, in fact, straight they seem compelled to hit on anything with a vagina. Yeah, you know what I mean. Those loud, arrogant pricks who when they are not chugging their “muscle milk” shakes they are piss all over the free weights in some strange ritual to prove to each other who is the bigger “man”. Here is a novel idea, why don’t you boys all just whip out your cocks and compare them and be done with it? Oh I’m sorry, all the “work out enhancers” you have been shooting up with make your balls shrink up?

Let’s be honest here folks, who the hell wants to be hit on in the gym? I mean, damn, you are sweaty, disheveled and generally not looking your best after 30 minutes on a treadmill. Add to this the fact that most folks are lucky just to carve out any time to go work out so any extra time spent fending off the advances of an aging, sweaty man with no neck is not helping things.

I can honestly say that in that moment I’m genuinely embarrassed for my gender.